When we were dating, there were so many promises. We believed we were meant to be together forever. At one point, I travelled to a remote farming community deep in the country just to meet her parents and express my intent to marry their daughter. It felt sacred, like the beginning of something real.

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But after a year and a half, just when the marriage process was about to begin, things started falling apart. I was in denial. I loved her deeply. I wanted her to be the mother of my children. But things weren’t going as planned. The signs were clear, yet I kept trying, pouring everything into a relationship that was already slipping away. I was exhausted. In the end, I had to let go.

I had invested so much: money, time, and energy, and that made the breakup even harder. Healing was brutal, especially when I had to follow the no-contact rule. No calls, no texts, no checking up on her. I burnt our pictures and slowly deleted the ones on my devices. It was painful, but I accepted the truth. We weren’t going to be together. The road had ended. My sacrifices were gone.

A year and a half later, we crossed paths at a religious event. She still had a cordial relationship with some members of my family, so I wasn’t surprised to see her chatting with my mum, smiling like nothing had changed. I couldn’t ignore them. It would’ve been strange to walk past my own mother. So I greeted them both and waited at a distance.

After that encounter, I realized I had truly moved on from something I once thought I’d never recover from. My emotions had settled. I had no desire to rekindle anything. I even told my mum not to ask about her again. I didn’t want to know what she was doing with her life. I had moved on. Or so I thought.

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Now and then, we bump into each other in the streets. Apparently, she lives nearby. And every time it happens, the atmosphere shifts. My heart races. Memories of our time together rush in like a wave, and I become restless until she’s out of sight. We exchange basic greetings and move on. I thought I had healed, but I don’t know how to explain this lingering feeling. I don’t hate her, but I don’t like how her presence makes me feel.

I’ve been through breakups before, but this one feels different. Strange.

—David

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